Culinary Archeology I
By Peter Duveen
There's an interesting compilation of
bound and unbound material in the archives of the Museum of Brooklyn
Art and Culture (the name I have given to my personal collection of
artifacts), which I like to call the Labrador Farm Cook Book. The
fragments are gathered together among and between the pages of a volume
entitled "Labrador Farm Book of Rules." The contents, however, are not
rules, but recipes, many handwritten, others clipped from newspapers or
magazines. The oldest fragments are from the 1940s, but it would appear
that handwritten pages of the volume date from the late 1960s.

Photo courtesy Museum of Brooklyn Art and Culture
Nancy and Ira Glackens at Labrador Farm, circa 1950.
Nestled in the foothills of New Hampshire's White Mountains, Labrador
Farm was the country home of the family of William Glackens, the early
20th Century painter who is better known as one of the "Ash-Can" school
of artists, this name having been given to it by critics who looked
down upon the artists' practice of painting scenes of everyday American
life, particularly street scenes. William and his wife Edith Dimock had
two children, Ira and Lenna. Lenna married but she and her husband died
in relative youth. Ira married Anne (Nancy) Henshaw Middlebrook, a
Brooklyn woman, and both lived into their eighties. Ira and Nancy are
definitively connected to the codex mentioned above by their
handwriting styles and autographs. Indeed there is evidence they
intended to publish it. Many of the recipes are assigned authors and
dates, or citations when they are gleaned from published sources. Ira
himself had authored a number of books before his death in 1990,
including a famous account of the eight artists that formed the group
among which his father was counted. He also wrote a biography of an
opera singer, produced a novel and a history of the United States. So
it would be no surprise if he and his wife planned to publish a cook
book. Certainly during their many travels through Europe, one of their
favorite pastimes was dinning out, as can be gleaned from journals both
left behind that include detailed documentation of their repasts. And
so we have reflected in the pages of this cook book a degree of
culinary sophistication that many of us only aspire to.

Labrador Farm Cook Book
However, there are a few recipes
contained therein which are within the reach of the rank amateur, and
it is among these that I have begun to try my hand. To my surprise,
each recipe that I have tackled has emerged as a culinary success,
judging from the reaction received from third parties upon ingestion of
the final product. For example, I recently made yeast rolls, something
my wife and I truly enjoy.
The recipe, hand-written in this case upon a decorative index card, is as follows (unedited):
Yeast Rolls
3 Cups flour
1 cup warm water
1 pk. dry yeast
1/4 cup oil
1 Tbsp. sugar
1 tsp. salt
1 egg
"Put 2 cups flour in bowl and set
aside. In blender, put yeast, water and 1 cup flour, cover and blend 20
seconds. Add remaining ingredients + blend til smooth. Pour over flour,
mix well- but do not knead. Cover and let rise 1 1/2 hours, Punch down.
Arrange in small round cake pans, six rolls in each greased pan. Put
soft butter lightly on top. Cover and let rise 45 minutes. Bake 25
minutes at 375 degrees F. Makes 12 rolls."

Bread rolls
Of course I did not follow all the
instructions slavishly, but tailored them to the technology at hand.
Preferring to avoid the noise and mess generated by a blender, I relied
instead on spatula, spoon and old fashioned elbow grease. Having no
cake pans, I merely stretched the dough into a long cylinder and cut it
into 12 disks, each of which I laid upon a greased sheet of aluminum
foil. This seemed to work well. My oven has only a broiler. The bottom
of the oven is soiled with previous attempts at baking, and activation
of the lower burner inevitably generates a huge amount of smoke, so
until I hunker down to clean it, it cannot be safely operated. In order
to recreate a baking rather than a roasting effect, I placed the
unbaked rolls as far to the bottom of the oven as possible. This seemed
to work.
Let's remember that the oven
transports heat to the item to be cooked by three different means:
convection, conduction, and radiation. Conduction occurs when the air
in the immediate vicinity of the gas burner is heated and the heat is
transferred to adjacent portions of the air, in much the same way as
hot coffee, when poured into a ceramic mug, gradually transmits the
heat from the inside of the mug to the outside. Convection occurs when
air currents transport heated portions of the air to a new location,
and these portions mix with the cooler air. Heat radiation,
however, is similar to light. It can travel through a vacuum like the
sun's rays travel through space, and its intensity decreases as the
second power of the distance from the source, meaning that doubling the
distance will reduce the radiative power of the heat to 1/4, and
tripling it, to 1/9. While the gas burner at the roof of the oven does
not constitute a point source where this so-called "inverse square"
relationship holds strictly, it may be thought of as being composed of
many such point sources, and from this assumption, the decrease in heat
radiation as a function of the distance can be calculated. The general
idea, though, is that radiative heat decreases markedly with the
distance from the burners, while heat from conduction is pretty much
uniform after it reaches equilibrium inside the oven. Therefore, one
will obtain a decidedly less intense but uniform heat by placing the
rolls at the bottom of the oven. Most readers will not encounter this
problem, they being in possession of cooking facilities far more
advanced than my own.

Cross section of bread roll
My wife Junalyn told me she enjoyed
the rolls, and I noticed that, after eating her first, she took a
second, and then a third. It might be worth mentioning that she is from
the Philippines, where the main staple is rice. To introduce her to
bread, let alone to get her to like it, was no easy feat. Then, of
course, there is the natural impulse to be critical of one's spouse. To
receive a positive response from her regarding the rolls must indeed be
counted as a measure of success. I too, having never made yeast
rolls--although in my boyhood did try my hand at making bread--was
surprised to have engineered from the above-listed ingredients a very
competitive product. It looked, felt, and tasted like bread! But was it
bread?
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